Tuesday, March 01, 2005

conversations with fate

Bleed me dry, till nothing runs from my veins,
till I am speechless as I run out of breath,
for I am exhausted beyond my means,
as every organ experiences death.

Why do you look at me,
so intently that I can see,
what you feel behind those eyes,
but yet be presented with lies.

Why do I bother,
when I don't really want to,
is it guilt one way or other,
why am I happy to hear from you?

Suppose it is better this way,
living our lives day to day,
trying not to go insane,
till next time we meet again.